Sex Magick
You’ve probably never seen a play like this, and with so many angles – erotic and playful, thoughtful, spiritual and political, and yet so inclusive and hilarious.
It’s queer theatre in all ways, pushing boundaries not just in love and sexual identities, but also shape-shifting the limits of play-making itself.
Seeing all this on Griffin’s tiny stage and modest budget makes this captivating new play and production all the more remarkable. It’s co-directed by the playwright Nicholas Brown and artistic director Declan Greene, who before Griffin did his fair share of riotous, richly camp shows.
A half-Indian Aussie sports physiotherapist named Ard is forced by scandal to leave the hypermasculine footy team which is essentially the family business. He and Liraz, a femme lesbian on the rebound who can’t help kissing boys, are thrust together in a tantric sex retreat in southern India. Ard is also hunting India for why his estranged father, a Kathakali teacher, so quickly migrated to Australia 30 years ago.
He and Liraz are on their own voyages of sexual and spiritual revelation as the play leaps between countries and time, and through a kaleidoscope of characters on much the same festive journey.
Blazey Best, Mansoor Noor, Stephen Madsen and Veshnu Narayanasamy (also an outstanding Kathakali dancer) flesh out these characters with wit, flair and empathy. And Catherine Văn-Davies and Raj Labade are vitally effective in maintaining the sincerity and appeal of Liraz and Ard through this seeming madness.
The nudity is appropriate, and the comments on colonial racisms and homophobia here and in India are sharp and insightful. All the production elements come perfectly together: Danni A. Esposito’s musical mix through meditative, house and disco, Kelsey Lee’s feast of lighting changes, and Mason Browne’s character-appropriate, usually exuberant costumes. Browne’s set of crumbling colonial arches fronted by two rows of changing room lockers nicely facilitates the constant entrances, costume changes and shapeshifting central to the play.
At nearly three hours, there are obvious transitions and text ripe for an edit, but somehow its part of this psychedelic trip, as Brown keeps us laughing till the end, dreaming of our own stretch for happiness.
At one point, Liraz admits her difficulty remembering the complete queer alphabet: LGBTQIA+. Sex Magick addresses each, but it has most to say about the last: fully living the +.
Martin Portus
BUY THE PLAY SCRIPT AT BOOK NOOK PERFORMING ARTS BOOK SHOP.
Photographer: Brett Boardman
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